Imaginary
by Black Moon White Sun
Summary: What if Susan had never forgotten about Narnia? [Oneshot. Rated for safety.]


**Author's Note: Sorry, this is so short. I wrote it in such a rush that I didn't bother editing. So, my apologies if it's horrible. Okay, now for the story. I was listening to "Imaginary" on YouTube and immediately thought of Susan and if she had really forgotten about Narnia. The wondering led me to create this story.**

_Story Title inspired by Evanescence's "Imaginary"

* * *

_

Susan had never _truly_ forgotten. The nylons, the lipsticks, and the skimpy dresses-they had just been her way of dealing with it. Dealing with the fact that she could never go back. Go back to the place she loved.

Her siblings had always asked her why she had changed. She couldn't very well tell the truth-they would see her as weak and she certainly wouldn't like that. So, she had answered how she had always answered.

"It was just a silly game."

She had tried to believed that Narnia _was_ just a silly game. But Susan knew, even at the age of thirteen (the age she was told she would never come back), that things didn't happen just because you believed they were.

As she stood in front of her bedroom mirror, making sure that her eyebrows were perfectly arched, Peter walked in. He had his coat on.

"Susan, are you sure you don't want to come to the station with us?" The reply was a shake of the head although she really wanted to go. Before turning to leave, her older brother looked at her disapprovingly.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" A pair of light azure eyes turned to him.

"Because I have to."

_I linger in the doorway _

_Our alarm clock screaming_

_Monsters calling my name_

_Let me stay_

_Where the wind will whisper to me_

_Where the raindrops fall as they tell a story_

She had kept up the act pretty well. She had always been interested in make up as a young girl. Any girl would. She had been allowed to wear since she was fourteen. And she wore it proudly enough to be called "The Pretty One".

At fourteen, the age she was when she went to America, Susan gets dragged in a crack-pot story of sea voyages, her cousin Eustace being turned into a dragon, and Caspian's love for a Star's daughter (who she was told the daughter was called Stella.)

"So he turned into a dragon?" Peter asks curiously. Edmund nods.

"He said it was because he slept on a dead dragon," Lucy says. Here, the oldest brother shakes his head.

"Ah, well, maybe he'll stop being a berk," he says and they break into laughter. All except Susan.

"Good story, but a lie nevertheless," she says while examining her nails. Lucy turns to her.

"It's not a lie!" she cries indignantly. She was about to ready to slap her older sister if Peter hadn't placed his hand on her shoulder.

"Don't bother, Lu. She doesn't believe anymore. I don't believe she ever did," he says coolly.

_Don't say I'm out of touch_

_With this rampant chaos-your reality_

_I know well what lies beneath my sleeping refuge_

_The nightmare I built_

_My own world to escape_

Seven years later, she's twenty one. Her family was at the train station seeing off Peter, Edmund, Lucy, Eustace and Jill Pole (who Susan thought was a bit plain). The five were going back to their respective schools. She was casually flipping through a fashion magazine when the phone rang. With a sigh, she got up and lifted it up from the receiver.

"Hello?" she inquired.

"Are you Susan Pevensie?" asked a man's voice.

"Yes."

"I'm sorry to inform you, but your family died in a train crash earlier this morning. A Mr. Harold Scrubb identified the bodies. Two girls, a boy, two young men, an elderly woman and an elderly man. Am I correct?" Susan couldn't take it. She impulsively threw the phone at the wall. It fell to the floor, completely smashed.

"He was lying. He had to be lying. They're going to walk in through that door and greet me like usual," she said, sitting back on the couch. An hour passed and it began to rain. Tears swam in her eyes. She broke into bitter sobs.

_In my field of paper flowers_

_And candy clouds of lullaby_

_I lie inside myself for hours_

_And watch my purple sky fly over me_

She was like that for about thirty minutes. She was alone. All alone. No one was going to comfort her. Susan laid her head down on a cushion. The one she had chosen was Lucy's favorite. It was a dark red with the picture of a lion. As she looked at the lion's face, she fancied its amber eyes were staring back at her. She shook her head wildly. _If Aslan had wanted me to go, he would have taken me._ A lump developed in her throat. Drops of water from her eyes fell on the cushion.

_Swallowed up in the sound of my screaming_

_Cannont cease for the sounds of silent nights_

_Oh how I long for the deep sleep dreaming_

Susan raised her head as sun broke out through the window. She should have never pretended. Maybe if she had just _believed_, she could be with her family right now. But no, she had had to think that Narnia was only imaginary. She smiled as she heard a lion's roar in her mind.

_The goddess of imaginary light_


End file.
